Back to Buffy
by Lyllyfred
Summary: Set just after season four, in an alt universe, Buffy and Spike are still at loggerheads but passion and emotions run deep. Who knew that hating somebody could feel so good? Spuffy. More chapters to come...hope you like it.
1. Chapter 1

Back to Buffy

Chapter 1

Spike leaned heavily against the bonnet of his car. He flicked open his zippo and lit another cigarette. Drawing deep, the tip glowed. He clicked the lighter shut and pocketed it. Looking down at his boots he viewed the remains of several butts littered around him and began grinding his teeth. This was ridiculous.

He let out a snort of annoyance and threw his head back to look up into the night sky.

'Bloody women,' he thought. Why was it that every miserable or crappy event in his life could be traced back to 'bloody women'. He shut his eyes.

'Sod her,' he thought. He'd waited for nearly two hours now, and he was doing her a favour in the first place. God, she had some nerve. Since he had been chipped, fighting demons was the only violent relief he could find.

He'd gone off on his own quite a bit to begin with, wreaking havoc on any monster that crossed his path; surprisingly it was less satisfying than he expected. But when he was with her, it was different.

He tried not to think about it, rationalising it as an extension of his lust for her blood. If he could not physically harm her, harming things in her vicinity would have to do; a reminder of how badass he was and what he would do to her when he got rid of the chip and its brain crushing restraints.

'Bitch is gonna be so dead'.

He flipped the finished butt to the floor, a wry smile spreading across his lips. He toed the discarded cigs, sighing he reached into his coat for his smokes and lit another. His smile started to fade.

He had read the same paragraph four times now; he just couldn't concentrate. As hard as he tried, his mind kept wandering back to last night. He had waited for her for two and a half hours before visiting her house. He stood outside and looked in at the kitchen window, listening to the inane chatter that she and her friends constantly seemed to babble. God she was stupid; he was amazed she was still alive. It was miraculous really.

Suddenly, mid conversation, he'd heard Red say his name.

"Buffy, weren't you suppose to patrol tonight with Spike? I thought there was that weird beaky thing to slay, what did Giles call it, an Aviasws - you know the thing with the nest made of human bones?"

Buffy watched the popcorn spin in the microwave and shrugged.

"Oh, I slayed foghorn leghorn this morning".

Xander chipped in.

"On your own? Buff you should have had some backup".

The microwave pinged.

"No need, it was just like a really big and slightly scaly chicken".

She emptied the popcorn into a bowl and added, with her characteristic lack of charm, "No harm no foul".

Spike shook his head.

The group started back to the living room and he strained to listen. Xander was making some God awful joke about an Aviasws crossing the road. How he hated that boy.

And there it was, the reason he had been left waiting like a fool for hours; she hadn't needed his help, she'd killed the thing herself that morning. Brilliant, she couldn't even be arsed to tell him the hunt was off. Her manners really were crappy. She could have at least told him about the change of plans, but apparently he wasn't important enough. She had a knack for making him feel like a fool. He thought about bursting in and giving her a piece of his mind.

'Forget something you stupid bubble headed bint?'

But then she'd know that it had bothered him and he didn't want to give her the satisfaction. He'd probably get clocked in the nose for breaking up the stupid movie night.

On the way back to his crypt he picked up a carton of smokes and enough booze to put an Irish wake to shame and after a fair few hours of drinking, chain smoking and ranting aloud, he settled down to try to read.

After the fifth attempt at reading the same paragraph he snapped the book shut and was about to fling it across the room when he heard the creak of his crypt door. Jumping up from his seat he balled his fists, readying himself for whatever nasty had come visiting.

She stood in his doorway. He noted the default hands on her hips, her head tilted slightly upward in a defiant gesture. Why on earth was she here?

She stepped down into his crypt

"Spike, Giles has found some interesting leads on a Paroki demon, he thinks it might be living close to a rubbish dump. They like to live in squalor".

She scanned the room and he knew what was coming next.

"Apparently they're not the only ones..."

So predictable. How he loathed her.

"Anyway, I thought me and you should head out tonight, do some recon". She looked about again and raised an eyebrow, "you _obviously_ know where the local dump is".

He realised not only were his fists still clenched, he had unconsciously clenched his jaw as well.

Buffy adjusted her hair. "So be ready at the cemetery gates at nightfall". She stopped fiddling with her golden locks and looked up at Spike, the direct eye contact snapped him out of his ferocious silence.

"Take your flat skinny arse and that stupid bouncy hair of yours out of my bloody crypt, your throwing off the decor".

Buffy looked shocked but she allowed herself a momentary worried glance back to her behind before rallying with her own anger.

"Hey! What the hell's wrong with my butt? Like yours is a peachy delight to die for! You're bony and you're pale..."

She struggled for a truly cutting remark, her eyes shining deviously as she hit on a true winner. With a smirk she added, " But then I guess you've been on a bit of a crash diet recently haven't you Spikey?" She narrowed her eyes. "So if you're not too busy wasting away, I _may_ let you help me track this thing."

He'd never felt rage like it - it consumed him. He stood rooted, seething, his eyes locked with the Slayer's. He considered smashing her skull in, but the pain in his own head wouldn't allow it. He'd have to make do with a vicious verbal battering instead. Like a true predator he went straight for the soft spot.

"Come on now Buffy, if anyone here knows anything about dumpsville it's you love".

There it was, job done. Buffy's bottom lip was starting to stick out and her eyes were glossing. He'd knocked her off her pious pedestal.

Spike lit a triumphant cigarette as he walked over to the Slayer, exhaling the smoke into her face as he drew near.

"Now be a good bit and sod off".

He shoved her back out of his crypt into the light and slammed the door shut.

That felt almost as good as pummelling her used to.

Buffy stared at the crypt door. What the hell just happened? Angry tears started to well up. How dare he? She wanted to kick down the door and plant her fist firmly in his stupid smug face. But she was a grown up now, she would rise above it. What did she care about the opinions of a ridiculous disabled vampire? She turned and started a brisk walk home.

And just where on earth did he get off speaking to her like that?

She gave a mental shrug. 'Buffy get over it, it's just Spike'.

She realised how quickly she was walking and slowed down. What the hell had started him off? Yeah, he was unpredictable, but normally news of a creature hunt was greeted with relish not hostility.

She stopped dead.

Surely that couldn't be it, could it?

Buffy scanned her memory. Giles had told her about the Aviasws, about how it nested in human bones. It had sounded grizzly so she'd reluctantly asked Spike for some back up. Of course later that day Willow found a picture of the creature in an old reference book and turned out it looked more like big bird than big bad, so she just went off and slayed the thing herself. Of course she had forgotten to tell Spike. Technically she'd stood him up. Then when Willow had reminded her, she'd not even thought about bothering to let him know. God he was highly strung, he was taking it so personally! He was evil and soulless for crying out loud; you'd think he had better reasons to get snarky.

Her walking slowed down to a stroll, Buffy thought about the interaction and felt bad. Not about the standing him up bit – it was just Spike - but she did care about what he had said to her in the crypt. Spike commenting on her love life had left her fuming. He always managed to get under her skin. She hated him; he was just so sucky.

Buffy stopped and looked back towards the crypt. Screw it, she wasn't that grown up yet.

She got back to the crypt in no time at all; Slayer legs were pretty good for running. They were also good for kicking doors down and exceptional at stomping vampire butt. As the door crashed to the floor she realised she was feeling better than she had for a long time; she was enjoying this way too much.

Spike shot up from the sofa, the shocked look on his face quickly turning to annoyance.

"You are going to pay for that bimborella".

In two quick steps she was at his side.

Buffy wanted to make him pay and he was the perfect punch bag. She'd vent by pounding him for a bit then head off home satisfied. It was like therapy and cardio at the same time.

He was out of practice, or she had gotten faster. He managed to block or duck most of it but she was really into the idea of wailing on him. He lost his concentration and she swept his legs. He hit the floor hard and before he knew it she was on top of him, pinning his arms to his sides with her legs. She sat on him and punched him in the nose, he felt the blood running freely from it but it wasn't broken. She must have pulled her punch.

Spike looked up at her. She had raised her tiny fist ready for another blow, her breath quick and the corners of her mouth betraying a smile of enjoyment.

"Bitch," he spat out.

Her arm shot out and she caught him squarely on the jaw. He snapped his head back around to glare at her, tasting his own blood.

"Ever considered life as a Catholic nun, love? I mean, you don't have much luck with the fella's anyway and you'd get to thrash all the young boys your heart desired..."

She caught him just above his eye and his head slammed back into the floor. Maybe he should ease up on the glib remarks. Just one more money shot maybe…

"Slayers, you'll never understand. The only time somebody will ever want you, truly want you, is when it's a creature like me, the thing you hate the most who wants to sink his teeth into you and suck you dry...and when I'm free of this chip and that day comes, you'll be mine, Slayer, all mine".

He looked up at her and tensed in readiness for the assault.

Buffy had been enjoying herself, maybe a bit too much truth be told. She'd let Spike get a few verbal digs in, going easy on him and pulling the punches a little to stretch it out. She'd quite enjoyed the one about the nun. Ready to wrap it up, she'd let him get one more in before knocking him out cold. She didn't expect what he'd said next to affect her so much.

Spike was confused. He thought, 'maybe she's had a stroke or something'.

Buffy hovered over him in suspended animation. She was staring at him in a very odd way; her hand still pulled back ready for action. She lowered it slowly and placed it gently around his throat.

He didn't like the way this was going. Maybe telling her he was going to suck her dry wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. She leaned down placing her face close to his and Spike suddenly felt very afraid. She'd finally cracked. Thank God she didn't have a stake to hand or he'd be dust already.

They had been in close proximity when they had fought before and there was that time Red had cast that infernal spell that duped them into believing they were in love and going to get married. He didn't like his reality being blurred like that; it was a taste of a life that was completely alien to him. That was magic though and this was very different. The room around him blurred as he concentrated completely on the small blond girl sat on top of him.

Buffy wasn't quite sure of what she was doing; there wasn't really a plan anymore. She looked down at Spike and ran his words around her head. 'Creatures like me are the only ones that will ever truly want you, you'll be mine, Slayer, all mine'. She hated him, but as he had said it, his eyes were truly full of longing for her. Even if it was the longing to take her life away. But he was incapable, the chip saw to that.

For Buffy, the temptation was too great; she would have some fun with him, a little get back for all the crappy people and crappy things that kept happening to her life. She'd drive him insane with desire for her blood then toss him aside. If he wanted to tease her about the things in her life she couldn't have, then he'd get it back tenfold.

The Slayer's face seemed to fill Spike's vision; her lips full and pouting and her green eyes huge and boring holes into his. What the _hell_ was going on? He had to snap out of this. He tried to shrug her off but she tightened her legs around him.

"Spike", she whispered and terror spread through his body. He was a dead, dead man .

"You want me don't you? You want to sink your fangs into me and suck me dry..."

She leaned forward, twisting her head to the side and presenting her long delicate neck in front of his mouth. Her skin brushed against his lips. "Well go ahead Spike".

Spike's brain went into meltdown.

There was a part, the prominent part, that was screaming for him to drop fang and tear into her flesh; it made him dizzy with the thought of it. Then there was the sensible part that said if you do that you idiot your brain will explode in your skull - shake her off and get as far away from her as you can. Then, in amongst the confusion playing out in his mind, he became suddenly aware of the physicality of the situation. While her one hand lay gently on his chest, the other had moved from around his throat and was entwined in the hair at the nape of his neck, holding his head in place close to her. Her hair hung around him like a golden curtain blocking his vision of all but her. It brushed against his lips again. So soft. He realised he had been frozen beneath her and was about to begin to protest when Buffy raised her head to look him in the eye. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were shining

"I thought you wanted to make me yours, all yours, remember?"

She moved her hand from his chest and ran a delicate little finger slowly and deliberately around his mouth. Spike muttered something, she thought it sounded like stop. Her finger moved up across his cheek and then slowly traced the scar in his eyebrow.

The electric shiver that shot down his spine finally snapped him back to his senses.

"Get the hell off of me," he growled.

The Slayer flashed a huge beaming grin in response.

"See you at the dump at dusk, Mister. Bring something nice and slicey. To kill this demon we need to cut it in half".

She tapped his nose with her finger then sprang to her feet and shot off out of the hole where his door used to be.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Buffy was jogging through the cemetery. Her feet were on auto pilot and her head was fizzing with what she had just done back in the crypt. When she leaned in close to tempt Spike, she'd hoped it would have the same affect as wafting a whiskey under the nose of an alcoholic– she'd hoped he'd bite. When his lips touched her throat, for an instant she thought that he'd do it. It had thrilled her, knowing that he couldn't, seeing how much he wanted it. And then when that instant had passed, she noticed how strangely placid he had become. She'd brushed her neck against his lips again and it sent shivers down her spine when she felt him stir beneath her. She'd sat up a little, fully intending to finish her little game by punching him in the mouth and bolting for the door, but when she'd looked down at his face and saw his blue eyes shining up at her confused and completely defenceless she'd decided to push her game a little further.

His face was quite handsome, even when covered in blood and beginning to bruise. She'd prattled off a line that he'd said to her earlier, something about him wanting her, then softly touched his lip. Engrossed in her actions, she'd slowly run her finger over his swollen mouth and heard him whisper stop. He looked so vulnerable and human that she'd almost forgotten momentarily that he was not.

Her hand had developed a life of its own; it traced across his cheek bones. His skin was cold and smooth to touch; she'd paused, noticing the scar on his eyebrow - he wore it like a badge of honour. Her hand made its way towards it, feeling its texture. Suddenly, he'd snapped back into himself and was shouting abuse again.

Buffy couldn't help the huge grin that forced itself onto her face. She reeled off something about the night's slaying activities and tapped his nose for good measure and left before he could come back with a retort. Bolting out of his place, she felt good, really good.

Spike sat up slowly.

It has finally happened; she'd gone out of her gourd.

He rubbed the back of his head absently and the memory of her tiny slayer hand entwined in his hair sent a shiver through him. He had to stay away from her; he didn't know what her new game was or how to play it yet.

Yes, he must most definitely stay away from her.

Buffy sat on the curb and waited as the light started to fade. It was strange; normally the thought of meeting up with Spike would be beyond irritating, but after the run in they'd had earlier she'd felt revitalised. She wanted another poke at him.

She'd paid extra effort on her outfit; it was a low cut vest top revealing an expanse of bite-worthy neck and, just to prove the point that her ass was not flat, she'd wriggled into the tightest pair of leather trousers in her wardrobe. She'd been trying to figure out what else to do to tease the vampire and had hit upon a plan that should have him completely under her thumb.

Now where was the peroxide parasite?

Spike had had a pretty successful night; he'd cleaned up at poker, made Clem howl with laughter with his dirtiest joke and had got the eye from a foxy looking young vamp at the bar. Ducking out on the dump surveillance was definitely the right move. He was happily humming away to himself as he stumbled into his crypt. Hmm, he hadn't realised quite how tipsy he was. Bumping off the wall, he stopped. Something was off.

Spike stiffened, sobering up as he caught an unwelcome scent in the room.

"Did you forget to write our dump date in your diary?"

Spike spun around to face Buffy, who was leaning against the wall next to the door. She pushed it shut and turned back to him. He narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, well, I got a better offer than a night trailing around after princess kick me in the arse".

He looked down and regretted his glib remark. Buffy held a long sword in her hand. She moved a step towards him.

Spike's body tensed as Buffy looked him up and down. She had that mad gleam in her eye again.

"Sit down Spike," she gestured to the sofa with the sword.

"Nah, I'm alright standing love".

"Sit, Spike".

They locked eyes for a moment then Spike, still eyeing Buffy, slowly moved to sit down. Buffy, with a smug smile spread across her lips, followed to stand in front of him.

"Good Spikey".

Infuriated, Spike made to get up but Buffy, anticipating his move, dropped down on top of him and placed the sword to his throat. Spike was now completely sober; the bitch was going to cut his head off on his own fricking sofa. Well that was just embarrassing.

Buffy looked him up and down. She sat on his lap, kneeling forward face to face with him, her leather clad legs either side of his. He could feel her firm bottom pushing down onto his crotch; maybe his observation about her arse being flat was a little unfair after all.

Buffy started to unbutton Spike's shirt with her free hand. She shoved the shirt open and looked down at his chest. Her breathing hitched; she was enjoying her game.

Spike was in the twilight zone once again. One minute she was going to slice his head off the next she was undressing him. What the hell?

"Slayer, what are you doing?"

Buffy ran her hand down his chest. She felt him tense beneath her touch and moved down towards his abs. She was surprised at how well defined he was. Chiselled, she thought, well who knew?

Spike held his breath. He couldn't describe it - as she ran her hand down his body the sensation was unbelievable; every nerve tingled and it stunned him. He looked into her face. Her eyebrow was arched and she bit at her lip as she concentrated on the caress. Now would be the best time to shove her off and high tail it; she was completely distracted from her head slicing duties. He swallowed and felt the cold blade against his throat. He had to run; he had to make himself run before it was too late. Slowly, and unnoticeably, he moved his hands to the sides of her thighs and placed them gingerly, ready to lift her and escape. He kept his eyes on her face, watching, making sure a nasty and rather decapitating surprise wasn't on its way. He was good so far; she had stopped the trail of her free hand at his belt buckle but was still pretty distracted.

Time to move.

His flesh was unyielding; he was slim but he was surprisingly well muscled. Her hand eagerly glided over his abs and a curious thought entered her head that caused her to raise a brow. Not once before when she had used that same hand to punch that stomach had she imagined that she was connecting with such a... she struggled for an appropriate word, biting her lip as she thought. Beautiful? Yes, beautiful body.

Her hand had reached his belt and Buffy realised she had run out of said beautiful body. The plan was to confuse him to lead him on with her blood and her body, tease him gently and throw him off balance; she was in control. Why, then, was her hand still on his buckle? She continued to look at it, the betrayer! The six pack was surprise enough, but her over enthusiasm had completely thrown her off.

Of course she wouldn't undo the buckle!

She fingered the metal.

Of course not!

Focus Buffy! Back to the plan.

His fingers were not unfamiliar with the feel of leather; in fact they were quite accustomed to it. He liked everything about it; the smell, smooth suppleness of the fit. Hell, it was just cool. He would have to shove her off beyond quick if he was going to get away with his head intact, but if leather was going to be the last thing he'd touched that'd be fine by him. Unconsciously he tensed, his muscles working ahead of his intention. Instantly, her enormous green eyes snapped up to fix him with her glare.

"Don't move".

Buffy was back on plan. She'd felt him flex and had snapped herself out of it, pushing the sword so that it grazed the vampire's neck.

Time for the second phase of the plan.

She raised her free hand to the blade and placed her finger against the razor edge. It only took the slightest pressure to slice into her skin and she cut a clean shallow cut so small it barely hurt at all. She held her bleeding finger up in front of a bewildered Spike and, putting on her best authoritative voice, said, "Lick it".

Had she just put her _blood_ in front of him? His fangs elongated and itched to plunge into her flesh. God, he wanted to drain her dry. He tried to keep eye contact, knowing that if he let the blood lust dominate him it would consume him and drive every other thought out of his head, but the blood had started to run down her delicate finger in a perfect crimson drop. Desperate to avoid the pain, but unable to resist, he stole a quick glance at it and instantly wished he hadn't. His face was starting to change.

Buffy watched as Spike vamped up. She'd expected him to fight to control himself a little better but he had succumbed almost instantly. She wondered about the constraints of the chip. She was safe, granted, but seeing his face as the predator always made her a little anxious. She steadied herself and reissued her command.

"Lick it".

Spike had managed to gather himself a little. Now he got it; the Slayer wanted to play games; torture him just because she couldn't keep a man for longer than 5 minutes. Well he didn't feel like playing along.

"Sorry love, you see even if my brain would allow me to suck on a slayer I'm not sure I want sloppy seconds".

That was the biggest lie he had ever told and, boy in his long existence, he'd told more than a few whoppers. He felt almost dizzy with the urge to taste her.

Buffy smiled. "Lick it Spike or I'll start slicing more than just my finger".

She was bluffing; she wasn't that cold. He was all but helpless - she wouldn't kill him like this.

The smell of her blood filled his crypt. God he wanted it, craved it. Strangely, she seemed to be desperate for him to have it.

Screw it, she clearly wouldn't get off him until she'd seen him have an aneurism and he really was tired of fighting the unbearable urge. First off he wanted to make sure he didn't accidentally slice his own head off when the inevitable pain spasm kicked in, though, hell, it might even be worth the splitter headache. For the first time since she sliced her skin and drew blood, he finally looked her in the eye.

"Lower the sword a little from my neck. I can't lick it with it there".

Buffy's eyes shone. He was going to do it! She felt a powerful feeling wash over her.

"Ok, but not too far. Don't go getting any ideas. Oh, and…" she smirked down at him, "Lick slow".

Spike glared at her. Buffy moved the sword so that it lay across his chest and extended her bloodied finger towards his mouth. He closed his eyes briefly readying himself for pain. When he opened them again he focused on her hand; the blood had run down onto her palm and was edging towards her delicate wrist. He leaned forward, suddenly afraid of what was to come. Spike hesitated just centimetres from her warm skin. Frowning, he took a deep breath and took his first taste.

Buffy was momentarily stupefied. She watched him lean forward then pause and thought he'd chickened out and her game was finally over. Then, almost tenderly, he started to lick the blood from her hand. It tickled and she was transfixed. He had obeyed her and was licking in a very slow delicate way. His tongue was soft on her skin. She hadn't expected that. She unconsciously moved her hand to a better position for him to gain access to her palm, her now clean fingers cupping the side of his face.

Spikes eyes had closed; he lapped at her hand and made a quiet breathy moan. Buffy, lost in his actions, blinked herself back to reality as she realised she had almost let her grip on the sword go, distracted completely by the unsuspected intimacy of the act. She blinked as she realised that he had stopped.

He finished; her hand was clean. His face relaxed back into its human guise.

Buffy felt his breath against her skin, his eyes stared down away from her. They fluttered under long dark lashes before lifting, uncertainly, to catch her gaze. She realised her throat was unbelievably dry and swallowed. His eyes were glowing her hand was still cupping his face.

How had this happened?

Oh yeah she was torturing him.

Hang on, why wasn't he writhing in pain? The ridiculous thought that her hand looked so very tanned next to his pale white skin ran through her mind, the stupidity of it snapping her back into action.

She withdrew it quickly and thrust the sword back into its former position.

"You'd better have a really good reason why your head isn't getting fried right now".

Spike looked confused, he opened his mouth to answer then seemed to think better of it. Buffy raised the sword so that it started to slice his neck slightly.

"How did you do that Spike?"

He leaned back as far as the sofa would allow from the blade. He glanced down at it then back up to Buffy.

"I don't know..."

He paused, thinking.

"I don't know".

Buffy narrowed her eyes; she pushed harder on the sword.

"Oh you know. What the hell have you done?"

Spike clenched his jaw; he'd had enough of this pissing about. God, she was impossible!

He didn't know what had happened; he'd fully expected to migraine out of existence as soon as he had tasted her and that's what she had wanted, wasn't it? She wanted him to drink himself into the worst hangover ever.

A strange thought crossed his mind. The idea of losing control and tearing into her flesh had never occurred to him, a thought that normally occurred to him at least a hundred times a day.

The sword drew blood; he felt it nick him just below his Addams apple.

"I don't know! I didn't feel like hurting you". It hurt him to admit that. "I didn't think about biting you, I just concentrated on the licking".

He instantly wished he'd omitted that last bit of information. He thought briefly about pushing forward and dusting himself, he was so pathetic.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. Interesting, she thought; if she controlled this, controlled herself, she could literally have her own lap dog. Things had taken a different turn to how she expected it to, but strangely, this was far more exciting.

Was this was gross?

It was, wasn't it? Letting Spike taste her willingly was a bad thing to do. So why did she feel so powerful and good?

"Do you want more?"

Surely he hadn't heard that right. He frowned.

"What?"

"Do you want more?"

No, he'd heard it right the first time. Of course he wanted more; the taste of her blood had sent warm coursing fires through his body. It felt terrifying, like he would lose himself on the waves of the feeling. Of course he wanted more!

But of course he couldn't have any more; he'd already lost enough at this meeting - pride and some free will -and sanity! He couldn't let this go on.

"No thanks love; think your vintage is a little off. Had your cork popped once or twice before, I'd wager".

He hoped she wouldn't slice his head clean off his shoulders, but he had to make a stand. He made his face look as disinterested as he could manage and braced himself for the worst.

A slow smile spread across Buffy's face and any control he thought he may have gained back evaporated. She leaned in so that her lips were close to his ear.

"Your right, you've had enough for today. Next time, you're going to have to work for your treat".

She backed away from him and slowly rose to her feet. He felt her leather clad thighs escape from under his fingertips. She kept the sword positioned towards him as she moved, still watchful of the vamp, satisfied that he was too confused to be any problem. She lowered her weapon and headed for the door.

Stepping out into the graveyard, Buffy found it very difficult not to squeal with delight.

She was going to break that vampire if it was the last thing she ever did.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Spike remained seated long after the Slayer had left his crypt. He looked down to his stomach where her tiny hand had trailed. How had he managed to lick her blood?

He had tried feeding before with the chip and it had ended badly. He'd never been fed blood with it though; he wondered if his brain could differentiate between the two. There must be a difference because he wasn't experiencing vomit-inducing pain.

He remembered the taste of her. When he had started to lick her finger, he'd felt like crying; he hadn't tasted human blood for so long and her blood, God, her blood was the best he had ever tasted.

He'd licked slowly, not because she had told him to. He licked slowly because he'd wanted to taste her for as long as possible. When she had moved to let him gain access to more he had let out a groan of pure ecstasy. He should have felt embarrassed but the fire running through him was dizzying. It was over now though, her hand was clean, his face had changed and he was left breathless and strangely shy by the experience. He'd given himself a mental shrug, told himself to man up and make eye contact, and when he'd looked up at her face, he was expecting a smug or disgusted response. But Buffy was viewing him with neither of those emotions; her eyes were dilated and her lips were slightly parted. She hadn't moved her hand from his face.

Her touch made him uneasy; he wasn't use to this kind of physical intimacy. Sure, Dru would caress him, but normally half of Dru's mind was somewhere else far off from the both of them.

He'd suddenly wanted Buffy to take her hand away and, as if reading his mind, she had.

He should have been relieved, so why did he want it back?

Buffy lay in bed. She had been trying to sleep for the last hour. The memory of Spike licking her hand kept flickering across her mind. It should have repulsed her.

She had expected him to be crippled with pain, on the first taste anyway, so she wasn't ready for the sensations that followed.

Buffy looked at her hand in the moonlight. The cut was already beginning to close, Slayer healing powers were seeing to that. She placed her finger to her lips.

Watching him feed from her, under her power, was a heady and intoxicating experience. She felt slightly guilty, a little ashamed and anxious but she knew she would do it again, and soon. His face, as he looked up at her, fresh from licking the last of her blood, sent a flutter through her chest. His eyes searching and full of her, she had him, she controlled him.

Buffy realised that her finger was tracing her lips. Horrified, she also realised that her other hand had snuck down into her pyjama bottoms. She whipped it back out and turned on her side. What the hell was that about?

It wasn't the best night's sleep; it had taken her an age to drop off, but when she finally slept it was deep. She woke with one thought on her mind and leapt out of bed and started to get ready. Throwing open drawers, she found what she had been searching for: a tight fit button down shirt. Perfect.

Buffy showered quickly, blow dried her hair so that it fell with a bounce about her shoulders and slipped into her shirt. She added a tight long skirt and kickass boots and slicked a healthy amount of pink gloss over her pouting lips and practically ran downstairs to the front door.

Joyce called after her.

"Buffy! Aren't you having any breakfast? You really should".

Buffy shouted back as she grabbed her bag and headed out. "No thanks mom, I've got a project that I need to work on, see you later, love you!"

The sun shone down on her as she weaved her way through the headstones. He would probably be asleep now. She'd wondered if she should wait until dusk to have her fun; in the cold light of day it did seem a little more daring. Well she was here now, already outside his crypt.

She pushed open his door and dropped down into the gloomy space. Moving silently, her eyes adjusted to the darker surroundings. She spied him at last lying on top of a stone tomb. He was covered in a rag tag blanket, his scuffed black boots lying on the floor at the bottom of his improvised bed. She smiled when she saw his bare feet sticking out of the covers.

Careful not to wake him until she was ready, Buffy put her bag down on the sofa and reached inside. Reaching around the stakes and lip balm, she pulled out a small dagger that she kept in there for emergencies, slipped it into the top of her boot then, making no noise at all, she approached Spike.

Spike was having a lousy sleep. He kept dreaming of golden hair and psychotic green eyes. Even in his dreams she was taunting him. He could hear her voice now, calling his name; it sounded distant, almost soft at first. He heard it again, the familiar annoyed edge creeping in. It grew louder and louder until suddenly he was awake and very confused. He blinked and focused.

Unbelievable!

Buffy stood over him shaking him awake.

"What the bloody hell are you doing!? Stop shaking me".

"Oh good your awake".

Spike sat up rubbing his eyes. Buffy noticed his tousled bed head hair and smirked some more.

Spike glared at her. "Get out of my crypt!"

"Your crabby in the morning, has anyone ever told you that?" Buffy pulled the blanket off him and threw it behind her.

Spike tried to grab it back. He missed and exhaled with rage before jumping up to stand toe to toe with his unwanted guest. He stood, bare chest and bare foot, but still tried to garner an air of authority.

"Look love, this game that you're playing, I aint gonna play it. Ok, I get it, you got nothing going on, got no fella to smother and no discernible talents apart from what you can do with pointy bits of wood. You're bored so you think you can get your kicks from winding me up, but it's not going to work, so go get yourself another puppet poppet."

He eyed her, hoping he'd hit the mark. She seemed to mull it over.

"First I want you to drop and give me twenty".

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Give you twenty what exactly?"

"Twenty push ups, just for starters, then I was thinking star jumps".

The twinkle in Buffy's eyes drove him crazy. He ground his teeth.

"Are you losing it blondie? Why would I do that?"

Buffy retrieved the dagger from her boot. Spike watched as she started to unbutton her shirt. He was trying to focus and concentrate on the fact that the Slayer had produced a blade; normally he would have struck a fighting pose or even tried to disarmed her by now, but he was struck dumb by the surreal actions playing out before him. She kept unbuttoning and he saw a glimpse of a lace bra; soft and cream against her bronzed chest. Perhaps he was still sleeping and this whole episode was a terrible nightmare, a terrible nightmare with Slayer boobs.

Buffy's fingers trembled. She was determined to follow through with her plan but thinking about it and actually doing it were two different things; she felt clumsy all of a sudden. It had seemed simple in her mind; flash some bite worthy flesh and infer that Spike would get to taste her blood again if he did as he was told. She was sure he would buckle because he was desperate for a taste of human blood but now, as he stood in front of her sucking in his cheeks, one eyebrow raised showing such distain, she started to doubt herself and her plan. Unconsciously she'd unbuttoned too far and had exposed too much. She stopped and, changing tack, raised the dagger to the soft flesh of her chest.

"Twenty push ups and you get a taste".

Spike moved his head to one side and eyed her cautiously; Buffy's heart was racing. She suddenly felt very wicked, stood in front of the vampire, shirt thrown open, brazenly commanding him to do her bidding in exchange for a taste of her blood. Of course, after he had pumped his biceps with a couple of sets of push ups and crunched that washboard stomach of his, she'd simply laugh in his face and take her leave. She thought about cutting herself slightly to give him some incentive and was just about to apply some pressure to the blade when Spike snapped out of his deliberation.

"No thanks love, not much of a breakfast fan myself and, besides, you tend to repeat on a fella. I'm surprised Angel didn't mention it…"

Buffy's hand shot out and caught him on the nose, the reflex of hearing that name. Spike stumbled backwards, blinking, his nose bloodied.

"Watch your mouth Spike". Buffy dropped the dagger from her breast to her side, her eyes sparkling with anger.

Spike grinned maliciously. "That touch a nerve there Slayer? Still want me to drop and give you twenty?" He looked down and noted that her knuckles had turned white.

Yes he had definitely struck a nerve.

In a flash, Buffy swept at his legs knocking him flat onto his back, winding him as he hit the cold stone floor.

"Just the drop will do".

Buffy started to re-button her shirt. As she stood over him, she slipped the dagger back into her boot and narrowed her eyes.

"Whilst you're lying down there looking so pathetic, why don't you think about the fact that you just lost your last chance to taste human blood?"

Spike made to get up and Buffy placed her boot on his throat holding him down. "You're such a looser aren't you, that's why I fed you my blood in the first place. You're just a joke and the punch line is you don't even know how much everyone laughs at you".

She ground her boot down harder on his throat and Spike glared up at her. He managed a croaky response of "itch". Buffy reasoned there must be a B missing. She smirked and turned to leave, happy that she'd got under his skin.

Spike coughed and gulped for air. Buffy glanced back over her shoulder. "You should have got down and given me twenty - it's an easier way to get out of breath".

As she got to the door she heard a gravelly retort from behind her.

"Yeah well from what I saw love, I think you should invest in some push ups for yourself".

Damn him, he just had to get the last word in.

After she left Spike lit a cigarette and thought about their encounter. He touched his bruised neck and grinned. He had definitely pissed her off; the footprint on his Adam's apple was proof of that. His elation was short lived as he remembered what he had missed out on; more Slayer blood. But he would never have bowed to her cuckoo demands to get some.

That was partly a lie and he knew it. He had, for a moment when she had pushed that dagger down onto her chest, thought about dropping and doing anything for a taste of her again. He'd only managed to save himself with bluster and bravado and luckily he'd hit on a subject that derailed her crazy train.

Why was she torturing him like this? He raised an eyebrow when he recalled all the badness he had sent her way. Oh yes, that's why. She was just going to dangle that carrot to make him act like a fool then whip it away and give him the stick. Oh yeah, he knew her game. This time though, he hadn't taken the bait and she'd been left hanging. Spike chuckled to himself. Spike one, Bluffster nil.

Slowly his chuckle died.

What if she was going to give him her blood after all?

He pushed the thought away but it kept pushing back. Spike reluctantly caught himself daydreaming of a flash of cream lace stained crimson and his lips against sun kissed skin. He cursed himself and his wayward thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Buffy was in a foul mood. Not only had her new enterprise to make herself feel better by controlling Spike gone horribly wrong and made her feel terribly embarrassed, she now had Boob issues too.

What was she thinking trying to manipulate him into being her pet vamp? It was the power over him that had spurred her on; she'd just miss judged how much he wanted blood over dignity.

She spent the rest of the day at classes not really paying attention; she kept feeling frustrated and not knowing why. Of course her game with Spike was never going to last long but she'd expected a bit more fun before he'd refused to play ball. She had to forget about it and get her head back to where it should be; slaying, the one thing she could count on.

At lunch she managed to convince Xander to accompany her on her slaying duties hoping that his light hearted banter would distract her from the morning's disastrous events.

Later that night, true to form, Xander had managed to de-stress her by regaling her with Anya soundbites and Harris family's anecdotes. Mid giggle, she realised they had wandered into Spike's cemetery.

"Hey, let's give this one a pass tonight. My spidey sense is giving me the all clear".

Xander smiled back at her. "And my common sense is telling me don't argue with the lady slayer. Can we stop off and pick up some snacks on the way back? Anya always needs appeasing if I leave her alone for too long and sweetie goodness should do the trick".

Buffy wrinkled her nose.

"Wait, you placate Anya with gummy bears?"

Xander beamed. "Oh no, the sweetie goodness is all me. The snacks are to get my energy back afterwards". He winked at her.

Realising rather too late what Xander was inferring, Buffy groaned and slapped at his arm, feigning mock horror.

"Well let's not keep Anya waiting, shall we?" Buffy motioned for them to turn and head back the way they had come.

Suddenly she felt an odd dizzy feeling. She stopped and felt the world reel around her. Xander placed a steadying arm on her elbow.

"Hey you alright there Buffster?"

But before she could answer, the Peroki demon appeared from nowhere, its jagged teeth gleaming as it lashed out at her. The blow struck her across the face and flung her backwards. She watched as Xander jumped onto the demons back. Her vision was hazy and she fought to clear her head. The valiant attempt to slow it down only worked momentarily as the beast flung him off. Xander's head connected with a headstone, knocking him out cold.

Buffy staggered forward and shook her head to shake the grogginess. She had to attack! She got in a good kick to its body but the thing retaliated with another swipe at her which she barely dodged. She just couldn't shake the dizziness.

She swung unsuccessfully at its head and it roared and lunged at her as she was caught off balance. Buffy half dodged and caught a glancing blow across her cheek. Something was wrong; something was making her wobbly and unfocused. She reeled, trying to gather herself. She had to pull herself together or they were dead. She couldn't run, not with Xander down and out; she had to fight. Her vision swayed.

Spike heard the fight from his crypt; his senses were attuned to a good old scuffle noise. He grabbed an axe and headed out to see if he could join in the fun.

At first he was annoyed. Of course it was her. He had been hoping for some good old demon on demon action, but no, she was there fighting the good fight. Best leave the bint to it. She'd probably beat on him for getting in her way; she was ungrateful like that. He watched for a while and smirked as the demon got in a good shot, then another…and another…

Buffy was trying to rally but the dizziness was overwhelming. The Peroki had gotten quite a few digs in and her body was starting to feel it; her mouth tasted of blood and her ribs ached. She was losing! A sudden fear ran through her body before she squelched it down deep inside. She grit her teeth and aimed another slightly skewed blow.

Spike watched, morbidly fixed to the spot, gripping his axe. She was getting trounced.

This was it! This weird looking toothy demon was going to beat her; going to break her. He grinned, his eyes glistening.

_She's finally getting what's coming to her. That beastie is going to kill the slayer!_

The blow knocked Buffy off her feet. She felt battered and nauseated. Above her the demon roared as he leaned down for the kill. She balled her fists ready for a final assault.

Spike saw the beast descending upon the battered slayer and flung himself forward. He swung the axe and embedded it deep in the creature's back. It howled and he grinned. He loved that sound. His happiness was short lived as the wounded demon reeled and struck him heavily, sending him staggering backwards. Clutching his stomach, he recovered his fighting pose and turned to face the gnarly demon. It had vanished, axe and all.

Spike stopped, chest heaving. What the hell? He hadn't intended on saving the Slayer; hadn't realised that he was moving until the axe was in the air. His body had betrayed him and flung itself into action.

Buffy's head cleared. She had watched in a fogged mist as Spike had appeared and stuck an axe into the Peroki. She sighed when she saw that he had joined the fight and caught herself thinking, thank God. The demon had howled and disappeared into thin air and as soon as the creature had vanished so had her woozieness. Her aches and pains remained though; boy would she be stiff in the morning.

Spike stomped over to her rubbing his gut

"What the bloody hell's wrong with you?"

Buffy looked up at him and frowned. She knew she should be grateful that he had just saved her life but she just couldn't let herself, and just why was he shouting at her?

"You having a bad day or something slayer?" Spike smiled down at her, gloating.

Buffy pulled a face. "Something happened, he made me dizzy".

She was whining. It only made Spike smile more.

"Are you telling me that all I had to do to defeat the great Slayer was spin you around a bit? Well now I see the fault in my dastardly scheming I was obviously over thinking things".

Against her will Buffy smiled. Relief of not being dead, she thought. Suddenly she remembered Xander and crawled over to check him. He was knocked out cold but he was breathing and his pulse was good, though he had a big lump busying its way onto his forehead.

Spike knelt down opposite her and prodded him.

"I wouldn't worry; he's got a thick skull. I doubt his intellect will suffer much either. Kid's as dumb as a bag of rocks."

Buffy shot him an angry look. Encouraged, he carried on.

"_What_? He follows you round like a puppy dog and is clearly sweet on you and all he gets in return is concussed. If the boy can't figure out that men and you don't mix then, like I said, the kid's just simple".

Enraged she made to hit him in the face, but with her sore ribs she laboured and he caught her hand easily. He held it in mid-air as they glared at each other. Slowly he lowered his gaze to her mouth and his breathing became more urgent. His eyes never left her lips as he turned his head slightly to the side and clenched his jaw.

Buffy wasn't sure what was going on; they were fighting and he'd gone all strange. Why was he looking at her like that?

"Spike?"

His eyes flashed up to hers. They were glowing; the brightest blue eyes that she had ever seen. Yet again she was taken off guard as he started pulling her forward, his free hand snaked around the back of her head and entwined in her hair. He moved forward to meet her, softly placing his lips on hers. An objection rose in her throat and suddenly died as she felt him lick her bottom lip. She closed her fists in protest but didn't try to strike him. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and kissed her deeply.

Buffy closed her eyes.

Spike couldn't believe it. After all that heroic shit that he'd pulled back there she still wanted to wallop him upside the head. He caught her hand easily; she must be hurting. He looked into her face and saw a wince of pain. Yep, that nasty had got a piece of her all right; she had the beginnings of a shiner and her lip was cut and bleeding.

Bleeding.

His pupils dilated as he took in the spectacle of her bloodied mouth. He fought hard to keep the monster back. Bruised or not she'd pummel him right now if he showed it. He was aware of the metallic scent in the air and gazed longingly at her mouth….he just wanted a taste. She said his name and he caught the worrying tone. He stole a glance at her eyes.

_Control yourself! Control yourself and you can taste her again. _

As he pulled her in close, he thought to himself, 'after all these years, you've finally gone completely stark raving bonkers'.

He felt her stiffen momentarily as he licked her lip, felt her arm tense under his grasp as she balled her fist but she didn't try to hit him. She tasted so good; his face changed as he licked her lips clean and he thrust his tongue into her mouth hoping to find more. As he savoured her bloodied mouth, Spike let out a low moan and, gripping the back of her head tighter, pulled her closer to him. He felt a small resistance as she weakly tried to hold back but almost instantly she succumbed, allowing Spike full access to her. He ran his tongue over hers, tasting the last of the blood. It tasted unbelievably good and he felt that wonderful warmth course through him again.

The rush passed and his face returned to its human guise. He remembered kissing Buffy before when they were under that spell; it had felt strange, oddly like an obligation, and the memory was a hazy nauseous one he had tried to forget, yet here he was again with his lips locked to the Slayer's. Vampiric blood lust had a lot to answer for.

Spike loosened his grip on Buffy and opened his eyes, slowly prising his lips from hers. Her swollen lips parted. He viewed the slayer; apart from the hitch of her chest, she was still as he looked down at her, as though in a trance.

Spike realised that he should run before the trance broke and Buffy broke his nose, but he couldn't stop looking at her. He wanted her to snap out of it. He _wanted_ her to pop him in the nose so that he could snap out of this too; in desperation he tightened his grip on her and thrust his mouth down onto hers. If she wouldn't rouse herself, he'd bloody well have to do it for her.

Buffy realised that she should have knocked him out as soon as Spike had gone in for the kiss. She realised she shouldn't have opened her mouth to him after he had finished licking her lip. She definitely shouldn't have closed her eyes and obviously should have resisted when he pulled her in closer, but she hadn't. She didn't know why, but she hadn't. And now he had stopped kissing her. Like a child, she refused to open her eyes and address the problem; if she did not look at him it didn't count, it didn't happen. She could feel his eyes on her and was just about to break and reap the consequences of not acting much sooner when he tightened his grip and began to kiss her again.

Buffy felt his mouth over hers and his strong hand in her hair pulling her to him. His other hand released her arm and snaked around her body. He kissed her angrily and he hurt her already injured mouth with its intensity; his tongue pushed deep into her, probing. She felt his hand brush under her breast and realised that he had slipped it up under her top; his fingers ran over the cup of her bra tracing around her hardening nipple. She let out a muffled groan into the vampire's mouth and he tweaked her. Surprised by her own pleasure, Buffy started to kiss back hungrily. Her hands wrapped around Spikes body eagerly; she grasped his ass and squeezed. Instantly she felt his self-satisfied smile press against her mouth.

Horrified, Buffy shoved him off; her game had gotten out of control and she had lost the upper hand. Annoyed and ashamed with herself she glowered at the vamp who smugly grinned back at her.

"If you tell _anybody_ about this…."

Buffy tried to make her tone as threatening as she could.

Spike smiled back innocently.

"You mean you getting battered by that ugly fellow earlier? My lips are sealed".

Buffy eyed him suspiciously. Surely he wouldn't let her off so easy, or maybe he was just as embarrassed as her. She glared at the evil smirking leather-clad fiend; nope she was definitely more embarrassed. Her thoughts were interrupted by a low groan from Xander.

Spike raised an eyebrow.

"But now I'm confused. Did you mean _that_, or was it the arse grabbing that you don't want me to mention?"

Xander was opening his eyes and regaining his focus. Buffy started to panic. He could not find out what she had done.

"Or is it what you can do with that tongue of yours that you want kept quiet Slayer? Because…"

Buffy freaked; she flung her fist out, cold cocking Spike and knocking him clean out before he'd even finished his sentence.

Xander tried to sit up. Buffy moved to help him and placed a steadying arm under his elbow. He looked around in a bewildered daze, his wits coming back slowly.

"Hey Buffy, I take it we won," he slurred.

Buffy was ruffled but was determined not to show it.

"We kinda didn't; he got away."

Frowning, Xander looked around taking in the scene; he looked questioningly to Buffy when he saw Spike lying face down in a heap next to him on the ground. Buffy held her breath; surely he hadn't seen or heard anything. A terrible fear gripped her at the mere thought of being found out.

"Where the hell did he come from? How long have I been out?" Xander looked hopefully to Buffy. "Did I break my record!?"

She was safe.

"Fraid not buddy, although you gave it a good shot"

She felt her cheeks burn as she prepared to lie.

"Spike turned up right at the end of the fight and managed to get himself knocked out as usual"

Xander chuckled.

"What an idiot!"

Buffy smiled;

"Yep, what an idiot," she said as she quickly hoisted Xander up and walked him towards the cemetery gates.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

When Spike roused himself back to consciousness the Slayer was long gone. He slowly pushed himself up and sat back resting on his knees; he felt his aching jaw and brushed some stray grass cuttings from his face. He looked at the sky; dawn was on its way.

That cow had left him out in the open to fry. He smiled wincing slightly; she wanted to play games but now it was his turn and she'd just given him a get out of jail free card.

He headed back to his crypt eager to get some rest and shelter from the daylight, but once there he felt too pumped up to sleep. He lay covered in his blanket staring at the celling impatiently waiting for nightfall.

The events of the previous evening ran through his mind on repeat; he tried not to think about it and plan his next move. After a couple of hours he gave up on that and tried to think about anything else at all. It didn't work. He kept coming back to the same moment; the moment she had lost herself and kissed him back.

His mind momentarily wandered; what if he hadn't smiled when she'd grabbed his arse? Unconsciously he smiled again as he thought of it, what else could he have done? Those deadly Slayer hands sure do have a firm grip. Spike chuckled out loud; that was definitely one strange night.

Crazy; laying one on the Slayer like that was not what he'd expected his evening activities to be. He was supposed to be out playing poker at Willy's later that night. God, if anyone there had seen that they would have lynched him, he'd be completely ostracised by the demon community.

He'd just wanted a taste of her, I mean it's only natural those bloody lips pouting away were like waving a red flag to a bull. He couldn't believe she had kissed him back. Bonkers!

She'd turned something that they both could have glossed over as an embarrassing situation (granted more for him than her) into some big deal. She hadn't even freaked out when he had started to touch her, trying in vain to end the horrifying experience for them both.

Well she had freaked out but not quite in the way he had expected. Of course she did the complete opposite, typical! He should have known she would have done that; she had some instinctual spiteful Slayer bitch code that was hardwired into her DNA that made her do anything she could to thwart his plans.

She'd freaked out good and proper when she thought the pup might find out though. He smirked; not so neutered now, am I girly?

He stretched himself out; he needed sleep, he wanted to be sharp for her. Spike thrust his hand under the covers; he knew a tried and tested method for getting himself off to sleep. He worked his cock slowly and closed his eyes; he tried, unsuccessfully, to think about any other girl over the last hundred years that had taken his fancy, anyone but her. An image of Buffy naked and bound popped into his head and he imagined how it would feel to push himself deep inside her. Spike exploded and came harder than he'd ever come before. Shaking and shaken, he lay back and let out an uneven breath.

_What the fuck?_

Well, that had the exact opposite effect to what it was supposed to; he was wide awake and frighteningly aware of how good that had felt. He silently prayed that he wouldn't be stuck with an eternity of only ever being able to wank over the sodding Slayer.

Buffy walked Xander home and deposited him into a scowling Anya's arms. She looked reproachfully at the Slayer as she handed him over.

"You've damaged him!"

Anya poked the huge lump on Xander's forehead to illustrate her point, disregarding his wince of pain with a flick.

"Anya! Owwww".

Ignoring his distress, Anya turned back to Buffy. "Thank you for ruining my evening yet again!"

Buffy opened her mouth but Anya slammed the door in her face. Deflated, she offered her weak response to the closed door.

"I wasn't the one who hit him in the head".

She could hear the muffled sounds of Xander being reprimanded as she turned to leave; if he didn't already have a monster headache he soon would.

Buffy headed for home exhausted; her mind running wild with the repercussions of what had happened earlier. By the time she had reached her front door she'd decided on a plan of avoidance, deniability and, if all else failed, intimidation.

She would stay as far away from Spike as possible and, if he mentioned anything to do with the incident, she'd say he was crazy.

Crazy or a sick fantasist.

Yes, a crazy sick fantasist, then pummel him.

Nobody would believe him anyway; every other word that came out of his mouth was a lie.

Why had she started this stupid, weird blood game? It was supposed to make her feel in charge of her life and now she felt her whole life spinning about her instead.

'Pull yourself together', she thought as she put her key in the lock. She shrugged. 'You could always just stake him if he becomes a real problem'.

Buffy managed a couple of terrible hours sleep and was grateful when morning broke; the sun felt like an old ally. He knew her secrets and had her back.

She rang Giles early, she was eager to tell him about the strange effect the Paroki demon had on her. She could hear him polishing his glasses over the phone; it was a habit he had when there was a problem to be solved or something had stoked his interest. It seemed that Giles was as in the dark as she was.

"Really, nausea you say? And you said that Xander wasn't affected?"

Buffy paused for a second. "I don't think so, I mean he did get knocked out pretty quick but he didn't seem woozy before".

She could hear him leafing through books.

"That's very strange; there's nothing in the ancient text on an ability to incapacitate prey with feelings of instability. If it is limited and developed to single out and incapacitate Slayers it really does bear looking into. Let me get back to you about this; I have some books in storage that may shed some light on our problem. In the meantime I think it would be best if you stopped hunting the creature until we know what this effect is and how to, erm….defuse it."

"Got ya, no slaying when the world is swaying".

Buffy smiled at her play on words.

"Quite", was Giles reply as he hung up.

Buffy padded into the kitchen. She got herself a bowl of cereal and sat at the counter. After her chat with Giles she'd decided that a day of taking it easy was what she really needed. Joyce walked into the kitchen popped some bread in the toaster, kissing Buffy on the top of her head as she passed. Maybe she could spend the day with her mom they could go shopping or go see a movie.

"Mom, do you want to go to the mall today? I seriously need some new boots. Slaying is so not footwear friendly".

Joyce frowned.

"Sorry Buffy, don't you remember I'm away this weekend with Helen from work; we're going to stay over in the city. There's an exhibition I really want to see and, well, Helen really wants to see some show, I've never even heard of it but she said it's a must see. Gosh I'm running late already. I'll be back late tomorrow, maybe we could do something then?"

Joyce grabbed her bag and a piece of toast.

Buffy smiled. "Sure, have fun in the big smoke".

Planting another kiss on Buffy's head, Joyce headed for the front door.

Ok, so a change of plans; maybe Willow fancied a day of retail therapy. She dialled her number and listened to the ringing tone.

"Hello?"

Willow's voice always put a smile on Buffy's face; her outlook was always optimistic, her light frothy brogue was something that had initially drawn her to the redhead.

"Hi Will, it's me".

Willow beamed down the line. "Hey Buffy! How's thing's? Xander told me about the Peroki demon. You're not too beat up I hope?"

Buffy stretched herself. Not that many aches and pains; she'd had worse.

"Nah, I'm good, I'm not so sure about Xander though".

Willow spilled her reply out, eager to appease Buffy's worries.

"He's fine, well, kinda got a big potatoey lump thing on his head but he's ok. Anya's trying to cover it with hats."

Buffy groaned. "Poor Xander; what does he see in her?"

Willow answered mockingly. "He said she really cares about him".

Buffy felt an unexpected twang of jealousy pass over her; Xander had somebody who wanted him, cared for him, all she had was baggage and bruises.

"Well I suppose if they're happy and he can live with her crazy good for them", she begrudged.

"Anyway Will, I was wondering if you felt like spending the day with me…."

Willow cut her off mid-sentence, her tone apologetic.

"Sorry Buffy I can't; I've got my wicken group today". She brightened as she explained. "We're doing this really cool ten-hour meditation; its suppose to prepare your mind for handling more exotic spells".

Buffy tried to sound enthusiastic. "Wow! Sounds great Will"

Willow picked up on her lack of enthusiasm. "We could hang out tomorrow; I could show you a new spell I've learnt that peel's a banana for you' it's so neat!"

Buffy put on her best attempt to sound enthused. "Yeah, sounds Great Will, see you tomorrow".

Willow sounded happier. "Cool! See you tomorrow, that's if I haven't meditated to another plane of existence!" She giggled at her own wicken witticism. "Bye Buffy".

"Bye Will". Buffy hung up the phone.

She thought about ringing Xander to see if he wanted to hang out but she knew that Anya would tag along; the last thing she wanted to feel like right now was a third wheel.

What the hell, maybe a day of mooching around the house eating muffins and doing some reading was in order; she grabbed a copy of Cosmo.

The day passed by quickly; she watched a little TV, flicked through several glossy mags, pausing on an article about how to get what you want from your man. She scowled as she read it; stupid men, like you ever got what you wanted with men, if it wasn't them just being complete dicks it was always something cursey or supernatural getting in the way. At the end of the piece she read the alternative advice.

_Of course sometimes just letting him take control is the best way. Give in to him now and then and allow him to surprise you with what he wants, you may just like it! _

Buffy grunted; stupid men.

By now it was mid-afternoon and she decided a soak in the tub would ease her aches; she ran the water as hot as she could stand and emptied a healthy amount of bubble bath into it.

It was the longest bath she had ever taken. When the water got cold she topped it up with hot; her fingers were white and puckered, lying back with a warm flannel draped across her eyes and forehead she felt calm and relaxed at last.

Spike had learnt how to twist any situation to his benefit a long time ago. He knew how to use the slightest of advantages to get the upper hand; but now he struggled. This was strange territory, for both of them.

No doubt she would try to wriggle out of this, maybe even threaten him, he smiled at the thought. This game wasn't over yet; he needed some angle, some way to crush her.

He could threaten to tell her imbecilic friends their dirty secret; Slayer would not like that one bit. He knew they were more likely to believe her version of events than his but he bet it would still put some wind up her skirt.

Maybe he should act as though nothing had happened at all; after her track record with men even a snub from an evil bloodsucker like him would hurt a bit.

No, he needed something better; something that would turn her moment of madness into a bucket load of pain and misery.

And then he saw it, the detail that he'd missed before. Why had the Slayer kissed him back?

Of course! To be the slayer meant great responsibility, sacrifice, martyrdom, duty, piousness and all that other boring crap that inevitably soured any romantic relationship.

It was quite simple really; the Slayer was lonely. Lonely enough it would seem to make her thoughts clouded and her actions questionable.

Spike lit a cigarette as he mulled this over; he exhaled smoke into delicate ringed shapes, watching them expand, float to the ceiling and disperse.

By the time he had stubbed out the butt the light was dimming outside and Spike had a plan.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

She woke with a start, jerking upright, sending her bathwater over the floor. The water was icy; Buffy shivered feeling a chill run through her body.

She'd fallen asleep in the bath.

Great.

Buffy climbed out and quickly wrapped herself in a towel. She hopped into her bedroom, furiously rubbing herself dry. Her teeth chattered as she headed over to her alarm clock.

Hang on, no that couldn't be right; that would have meant that she was in the bath for hours. Buffy looked to her window. Outside the sky was already starting to darken. The anxiety over her 'misdemeanour' crept back to haunt her again; she needed something to take her mind off it, she needed something to slay.

Buffy rifled through her wardrobe. When she was finally happy with her choice it was already dark outside. She readjusted her hair, popped on some lip balm and jogged down stairs. Feeling hungry after her marathon soak she headed to the kitchen and made herself a sandwich; she rang Giles as she devoured it.

His answerphone picked up so Buffy left a message letting him know that she'd gone out patrolling. She'd hoped to talk to him to check if he had any new news about the Peroki demon; Buffy felt uneasy when she thought about their encounter. What good were super Slayer powers if you couldn't focus and use them? Shrugging off her worries she grabbed her keys and slid on her leather jacket.

On opening the front door she was pleasantly surprised to find an enormous bunch of flowers sitting on her doorstep. Looking around furtively she bent down to retrieve the card, it read:

_Dear Buffy,_

_Roses are red, Violets are blue_

_Your beauty has beguiled me, I'm smitten by you. _

Buffy wrinkled her nose, 'lame!'

She read more.

_Please meet me at the Bronze tomorrow evening at nine._

_I'll be dressed in blue so that you will recognise me, and you, my sweet rose, would look exquisite in red._

_X_

She looked for a name but couldn't find one.

'That's so weird' she thought as she took them back into the house. After arranging them in a vase she popped them on the living room table; fingering the card she absently slipped it into her jacket pocket. She stole one more glance at the pretty bouquet before heading out as planned.

As she walked Buffy ran the likely suspects through her mind.

Parker?

God no. Definitely not Parker.

There was a guy at collage that she'd caught stealing glances at her; actually there were a couple.

That big sandy haired guy that she saw sometimes around campus was in real good shape; Buffy gave a whimsical smile, yep, real good shape.

Her mind wandered to Xander.

No, of course it wasn't Xander, why on earth had she even considered him?

It was because Spike had pointed out that he was sweet on her. He just couldn't stop himself meddling, that conniving, low down, manipulative creep.

Hang on; what about that little dude, what was his name again? Oh yeah, Johnathan. She'd thought he might have had a crush on her since high school; boy, that would be awkward.

Her mind buzzed with the possibilities; she tried curtailing her excitement, she probably wasn't even going to go tomorrow night anyway.

As soon as the light had faded sufficiently and he felt safe that he wouldn't burst into flames Spike left his crypt to scour the cemetery.

Finally he found what he was looking for; a fresh grave. Conversing blithely with the headstone he collected the newly deposited flowers combining them to form his own lavish bouquet.

"There's nothing quite like saying it with flowers. Cheers mate."

He tucked the note amongst the blooms and headed off towards her house.

Spike had enjoyed writing the note; he'd always appreciated verse. Granted it wasn't one of his best but it was good enough to charm simple Summers. He placed the flowers outside her door and retired to some nearby bushes to watch his scheme unfold. He didn't have to wait long as Buffy appeared in the doorway just moments later.

Spike watched as she picked out the card and began to read it.

She'd looked less impressed with it than he had hoped, but as she picked up the bouquet and took it inside her face betrayed a sense of happy excitement.

'Got ya' Spike thought. Now to move on to phase two of the plan.

He waited until she reappeared and then followed her. Staying a decent distance away he trailed her patrol; Spike ran his plan through his mind getting his next move clear.

The plan was this: he would bump into the slayer and ascertain if there was any suspicion about the flowers. He would act like a true arse, demanding money for his silence and making stupid lewd jokes to cover his accountability. When he was sure that he was in the clear he would subtly try to find out if his honey trap had worked and Buffy was hooked.

Spike was pretty sure she couldn't resist; she was going crazy with the loneliness.

He'd introduced a prince charming into the mix to get her little slayer hopes up; get her all excited at the prospect of somebody who was infatuated. A romantic, a gentleman. Then, after he'd watched her unwittingly make a fool of herself tomorrow night at the Bronze he'd reveal himself and his scheme; exposing her pathetic desperation, crushing her fragile self-esteem and confidence irrevocably.

'Now,' he thought, 'that's how you play the game'.

He quickened his step; time to make himself known.

Buffy was paying no attention at all to the route she was taking; she couldn't stop thinking about the bouquet and her mystery admirer. She was happily musing away as she left the main street and turned down an alleyway. Distracted by her thoughts she didn't see Spike until it was too late and they had already collided.

Rebounding off his leather coat Buffy snapped back into reality.

"What the hell? Seriously, get a bell or something."

Spike straightened his duster and shot a mock concerned, mostly sarcastic, smile her way.

"Sorry, did I interrupt your deep thinking? Let me guess; you've devised a brilliant new way to chew gum."

Buffy set her jaw.

"Are you following me Spike?"

She watched him closely.

Buffy felt on edge; her embarrassment about their last encounter was fighting to surface. She couldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing any weakness so she placed her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes venomously.

Spike who had been silently scrutinising her finally offered his reply.

"I want money or I blab about your roving hands to your do-gooding posse."

Buffy laughed in his face; hoping it would disguise her rising dread.

"Really; do you think anyone would listen to a vile pathetic vamp like you? You've cried wolf one too many times William."

He twitched visibly as she used his real name. Encouraged she carried on.

"I'll never give you money and if you try to make any trouble for me," she paused for dramatic effect, "I'll stake you on the spot."

Buffy viewed his reaction hopeful that he was convinced.

His eyebrows shot up and he bit at his lip in effort to stem a rising smile; clearly not so. Coolly he leant in close and whispered into her ear.

"I would consider payment in blood love; that is if you could manage to keep your hands off me while we're making the exchange."

Buffy could feel his breath on the side of her face; he had no respect for personal space.

OK, she'd tried to give him a chance and he'd tossed it right back at her. Spike didn't understand how to be reasonable; that was now abundantly clear.

"I'm warning you Spike."

Buffy slipped her hand inside her jacket seizing a stake.

Now it was Spikes turn to laugh.

"What!?" he said in mock horror "You gonna stick it in me Slayer? I'd like to see you try."

It had to be done; he would never let it be. She knew him, he was like a dog with a bone.

Well if that was the way he wanted it.

Buffy shoved Spike back, sending him crashing into the alley wall. Using her forearm as an anchor against his throat, she pinned him there. Spike retaliated and grabbed her arm in a vain attempt to lever her off.

His mirthfulness had completely deserted him as she levelled the stake above his heart.

Pulling her arm back she readied for the kill; she hesitated, this was it she'd be rid of him forever.

Adrenaline coursing; she looked up into his face for one last time.

He glowered down at her; fear flit across his features momentarily but even now with the stake drawn back and ready for the plunge he refused to show it openly. His eyes shone; almost daring her to go ahead. She watched his jaw flex and felt him swallow beneath the weight of her arm; still unflinchingly he stared her down.

Rallying herself and shoving her forearm tighter across his throat, Buffy readied herself to deliver the killer blow. The stake wavered in mid-air as her knuckles whitened against the wood.

'Just do it!' she thought as she viewed his reproving face. 'He deserves this'

Finally his eyes left hers. Buffy felt some short lived relief, as she realised he had dropped his gaze to her mouth. His lips parted slightly; his breathing steadying itself before he returned his gaze to bore holes into her eyes once again.

The moment had passed; Buffy felt weird as she remained motionless holding the vamp in position, why couldn't she dust him? He'd been nothing but trouble and misery to her since their first meeting. Well if she couldn't stake him now she'd have to bluff it and try to scare some sense into him.

Buffy moved the stake so that it rested against his chest; she applied just enough pressure so that it broke the skin a little. Spike grunted in pain but remained calm beneath her restraint; now perfectly serene he spoke softly.

"Go on then sweetheart; show me what you're really made of."

He moved his hand and placed it gently over hers on the stake.

Spike's touch felt electric. The sensation of it shot out through her body like a prickly consuming wave; it rebounded off the soles of her feet and then relayed straight back up to shatter all focus in her head.

Buffy desperately wanted to get away from him; she needed some space between them. Loosening her hold on his neck and stepping back she brought her knee up and drove it into his gut; she felt his hand leave hers as he folded with the impact. Coughing, Spike slumped down to the ground.

Buffy tucked her stake back into her pocket and trying to appear as calm as she could, delivered her command.

"You don't tell anybody. Ever. You don't get money and you definitely don't get any of my blood. What you do get is beat on every time I see you and your sorry face hanging around causing trouble." Her performance was good. "Do we understand each other?"

Spike looked up at her; she could still see the fire burning in his eyes and was surprised when he smiled compliantly and nodded his head.

Buffy stared down at him. Good. It seemed her job was done; she should go now and continue her patrol but she didn't want to leave. She liked standing over him; feeling the upper hand.

He looked almost like he enjoyed her dominance over him; Buffy noted how vibrant he looked crouched before her observing her every move, his fine features were utterly enthralled by the confrontation.

She shoved his head back angrily banging it against the wall before turning to leave; she couldn't let him make her thoughts wander ever again.

The brick was bloody unforgiving; he'd taken a while to recover and by then she was long gone.

Spike smiled to himself. He reached into his coat and retrieved his cigarettes. Lighting one and taking a long hard draw he felt good. He happily addressed the empty alleyway.

"I love it when a plan comes together."

Chuckling he hauled himself up off the ground.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

There was nothing quite like retail therapy to ease the burden of being the chosen one, destined to fight evil wherever she went. Eyeing a sweet new bag, Buffy mused, 'well, if I don't deserve it, who the heck does?'

After paying, loaded down with shopping, Buffy and her mom stopped for coffee; Joyce was busy filling her in on her stay over in the city.

"The exhibition was amazing Buffy. I'm so glad I went."

Joyce sipped at her cappuccino then frowned.

"Helen's show turned out to be a troop of strippers! Can you believe that?"

Buffy burst out laughing, imagining her mom surrounded by oily thong-clad men.

Joyce looking slightly bemused shook her head.

"She always seemed so quiet at work."

They laughed all the way home and Buffy felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

After some serious consideration she phoned Willow and Xander arranging to meet later that evening at the Bronze. She'd just be out with her friends, no biggie. If she just happened to bump into her mystery man there it was pure coincidence.

Buffy headed to her room. Rifling through her shopping bags, she pulled out a tight fitting red dress and held it against herself. With a twirl and a smile, she reviewed her reflection.

Spike's day was spent rehearsing his Slayer-crushing monologue; it had to be just right. He wanted her to be humiliated, but above all else he wanted her to feel rejected and alone. Spike had learned a long time ago that cruelty like that was a hard to shake.

She'd definitely swallowed the bait hook, line and sinker. He remembered that stupid mooning smile plastered over her face. She was well and truly duped.

His hand rubbed at the spot where her stake had pierced his skin. Buffy had surprised him when she sprang into action and for a moment there he thought she was going to dust him. When she held him against the wall with that rage burning in her eyes, Spike had astounded himself with the mettle he'd shown in return.

It excited him to run the encounter through his mind again and again; Spike hated to admit it but when she was full on Slayer, fierce and full of fury, she was a true sight to behold.

Spike had even caught himself stealing a glance at her mouth. He chalked that one up to the memory of tasting her bloodied lips. Maybe it was some weird Pavlov's dog thing. In the end she'd bottled it; she had a moral code to uphold and it would be bad form to stake him when he was chipped.

Spike flicked on the TV. He needed something to occupy him until nightfall.

He got to the Bronze early, eager to see his plan unfold. Spike ordered himself a couple of beers and some chasers and headed up to the mezzanine. He tucked himself away in a dark corner, a place that gave him the best vantage spot. Now all he had to do was wait.

It was half nine. Finishing his beer he began to think that maybe Buffy hadn't taken the bait after all. As though on request he noticed the numbskull and the skinny narcissist making their way to a table, Spike smiled. It wasn't long before they were joined by the 'little witch that could' and shortly after that the Slayer.

She was wrapped in a long black leather coat and Spike smirked to himself as she unbuttoned it to reveal a bright red mini-dress.

The gang sat around the table conversing merrily. Spike noted Buffy surreptitiously scanning the room and he smiled; this was going to be even better than he had expected. There were quite a lot of guys out tonight wearing blue; it couldn't have worked out any better.

From time to time the Slayer locked eyes with a possible suspect and, filled with hope, she'd view her quarry before losing her nerve and lowering her gaze to her drink. He could feel her growing embarrassment and he loved it.

This was just what he had wanted; she looked so desperate shoehorned into that slip of a dress. She'd gone all out tonight she really must have wanted to make a good impression. Shame there was nobody coming to appreciate her pathetic efforts.

Buffy got up and made her way to the bar. It was then that he noticed it.

Spike looked around and realised that there were at least four men in blue that were watching her every move, returning her furtive glances. In fact there were a lot of men giving her the eye.

He frowned. What the hell?

Spike hadn't factored desperate guys into his scheming, but the more he watched the more satisfied he became that they wouldn't approach her. They viewed her with awe.

He peered down at the Slayer. Granted, she'd scrubbed up alright he mused, but why was she generating so much attention?

Spike raised an eyebrow and swallowed his whiskey chaser. Maybe it was her hair, he'd always liked her hair; the way it bounced about her shoulders like a bobbing golden wave.

She had quite a good body too he supposed; petite and poised...bendy looking.

Spike swallowed his second chaser.

Her face was alright; she had that childish look about her though, all sweetness and light and bubble-gum pop. He of course knew better.

She did have a great smile though and when she was in battle mode...yeah, now that was something to see.

Her hands were tiny; she probably couldn't even hold a pint with one but she somehow managed to wield a bloody broadsword.

As for her eyes; they were way too big for her face, she looked like a Disney princess batting her oversized lashes. Woodland creatures probably did her laundry.

He suddenly appreciated how delicate and feminine she looked considering the he-man strength she had coursing through her.

Spike watched as she walked back to her table; he looked at her tan legs and felt a chill course through him.

Rooted to the spot, he closed his eyes.

This could not be happening.

Not to him.

Spike opened his eyes and reluctantly looked down at her; she was laughing her face crinkled up in a gormless expression. He knew it then and felt like throwing himself over the rail. He fancied the Slayer.

He was so annoyed with himself. This, he decided changed nothing. The game was still on and the plan was still in effect. Spike watched Buffy in a slightly surreal daze; this new revelation had thrown him a little. His anger grew; trust her to do this to him now that he had her just where he wanted her. Spike psyched himself up for his soul-crushing big reveal; he was still going to make his move. His anger was now burning in him with renewed purpose, fuelled with an air of manic desperation and stubborn denial.

He saw his opportunity as Buffy headed to the toilet. Spike slipped down the stairs and waited outside the ladies door.

He wanted her to be destroyed. He wanted power over her. He wanted her to be hurt by him. Then unexpectedly he realized that most of all what he wanted was her attention and, by God after he'd let loose his tongue, he'd get it.

The door opened and Spike smiled maliciously as he readied himself for the kill.

This was stupid wasn't it? Definitely one of the stupidest things she had ever done. Why had she bought this ridiculous dress? More to the point, what was she doing sitting in the Bronze trying to catch the eye of every blue-clad guy in the place?

Denim!? Does that even count as blue?

She suddenly felt glad that she hadn't told Xander and Willow about her blind date.

The evening went by agonisingly slowly. Buffy put on her best fake smile and laughed heartily at Xander's jokes. She just couldn't relax; she kept looking for him. Maybe he'd had second thoughts.

Buffy felt a sadness wash over her and she realised only then how excited she had been to meet this mystery guy. The gang had just got up to dance and she used this opportunity to sneak off to the toilets to gather her thoughts.

Buffy looked at her reflection in the mirror.

"Roses are red violets are blue, you're such an idiot, stupid, idiot, idiot head!"

Great she couldn't even make that rhyme; her eyes filled with tears. Why was she crying?

She quickly shook herself and dabbed at her eyes; not too much mascara damage, at least that was something. Sighing and readying herself for more disappointment, she headed for the door. Pushing it open she looked up and met Spike's intense glare.

Buffy was caught off guard and she stumbled momentarily for something to say. Collecting herself, she shot him a swift insult.

"Spike, are you lurking outside ladies toilets now? Wow! Creepy, even for you."

Silence.

Buffy frowned.

"Normally this is where you make a rather unwitty retort."

Buffy watched as Spike worked his jaw and looked at her strangely. She decided her evening couldn't get any worse. Shaking her head, she started to walk past the vampire.

"You look nice."

Stunned Buffy stopped dead. She turned to face Spike.

"What did you say?"

Spike, looking almost shy, stared back at her from under a pained, furrowed brow.

"I said you look nice."

Buffy realised her mouth was open. She closed it and narrowed her eyes. Spike was squirming under her gaze; what was he up to?

"Really, if you're after more blood Spike you can do better than that."

Buffy pulled a face sucking in her cheeks in imitation. She put on her best mock English accent. "Oh' you look really nice."

She sounded like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins and it hadn't come out as scathing as she'd wished, more comical than anything else.

Spike smiled at her. "I didn't say really nice, just nice."

Always with the sass.

Buffy shoved him. Spike rebounded off the wall his smile growing even bigger. Grabbing him by his leather collar she held him in front of her.

"Stay away from me."

Grasping him she looked into his eyes trying to push her point home. Satisfied, she let go of him but was surprised when Spike instantly seized her hands and held them in place against him. He moved closer to her.

"Let go of me Spike."

Spike tightened his grip on her. He licked his lips and Buffy felt a warmth bloom inside her as she viewed his mouth. His voice was husky.

"Say you want this Slayer."

Buffy blinked; what the hell was going on. She didn't really know what to say so she opted for a neutral "What?"

Spike wrapped his arm around her and he pulled her body in close so that it pressed along his. Buffy felt his hard body against hers. Her eyes widened as she felt an unexpected hardness pushed against her stomach. Buffy blushed feeling completely and utterly flustered.

Spike looked down at her. "Say you want it Slayer."

Buffy found herself wriggling in a half-hearted attempt to free herself from his grasp.

"Stop it Spike."

The movement only excited him more. Buffy felt his already hard cock stiffen and strain against his jeans. She instantly stopped moving. She realised shamefully that she had pushed her chest up and out, thrusting it below his appreciative eyes. She was practically panting 'what!? Now you're trying to defeat him with your heaving bosom?' Buffy felt his hand run down her back and slowly move to rest on her ass. He cupped her, pulling her closer still. Again he issued his request, his eyes pleading with her.

"Say you want it."

This time he lowered his mouth close to hers. Buffy's body, thrumming under his touch, wrestled for an appropriate response.

She was mortified when she realised she wanted to kiss him; even more so when she realised she might. No. She hadn't lost all her sense or reserve quite yet.

"Get off me Spike." Her tone was like an icy breeze that had blown in to cool the mounting heat between them. "I don't want anything from you."

Spike raised his head to look at her; he scrutinised her face for what seemed like an eternity then slowly he released her, turned and left through the back door.

Shell-shocked Buffy wandered back to her table totally thrown by what had just taken place. She sat down; instantly Anya noticed something was amiss.

"Why are you bright red? You know it's not flattering to be head to toe crimson. The only people who can pull that off are Spiderman and Clifford; neither of which, I'm sorry to inform you, are you."

Xander turned his attention her way. She felt trapped. What if they saw her guilt and guessed?

Willow looked Buffy over.

"Buffy are you feeling alright? You do look kinda glowy." She smiled suddenly. "Hey, did you get a sneaky shot while we were dancing?"

Buffy nodded, eager to jump on the excuse Willow had offered up.

"Yep, 'fraid you caught me!" she smiled meekly.

Anya looked at her pityingly as though viewing a chronic alcoholic case in the making. Maybe it would have been easier to tell them that she'd gone insane and nearly kissed Spike, in fact that she had actually kissed him once and maybe groped him a tiny bit too.

Then again, on reflection, being an alcoholic wasn't that bad.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Comparatively, on her scale of disastrous evenings (and she'd had many) tonight rated right up there. Buffy closed her front door and placed her head against the wood.

Being stood up by her admirer was bad but nearly making out with Spike? That was very worrying.

Next time she saw him she would have to resolve this 'mess' they'd got themselves into. Even if that meant growing a set and doing what she couldn't do before.

Buffy was just about to head up to bed when the phone rang. She picked up offering a tired and careworn "hello."

Giles answered. "Thank God. Finally I've reached you!"

Buffy yawned. "Hey Giles, did you get my message?"

"What message?" his tone was serious. "Look, never mind about that now. I've been digging through my extended library looking for anything on the Peroki; they really are quite fascinating beasts." Giles paused realising he was wandering off track. "Anyway I believe I've found something rather significant in an old text." He hesitated. "I'm afraid it's not good news."

Buffy leaned against the kitchen top; when was it ever? It really had been a long night. "Great, go ahead lay it on me."

Giles cleared his throat. "Well, it would seem that there is a way for a Peroki to acquire the abilities you've described. Genetically, Peroki don't possess the ability to muddy powers or cause feelings of instability when in close proximity. I believe it is a singular characteristic of this Peroki alone; created with the purpose of immobilizing a Slayer."

Buffy had heard enough. "Look, Giles, just tell me how to kill it." She'd taken all she could stand for one night. Her head hurt and those beers she'd chugged back to cover her discomfort were starting to make her feel nauseous.

The Watcher sounded annoyed with her lack of attention. "Buffy, I don't believe you fully understand quite how dangerous this situation is. The Peroki has been granted these abilities through a series of rights; the creature bequeaths its very existence to fulfilling them. These rights end in a ceremony that involves a ritual and a sacrifice. Once performed, it will open a window into a hell dimension, releasing the Peroki deity, Dephack. This in turn, it's written, will signal the end of times and the demise of the human race."

Buffy filled a glass of water. "OK, I get it; we need to stop it before it grabs some poor victim and orders up a mega beast with fries." She gulped down some water, trying to fight back the queasiness.

Giles blustered down the line. "No, I don't think you quite understand. You see the sacrifice that's needed is a very particular sort."

Buffy's vision swayed and Giles voice echoed through the receiver.

"Do you understand?"

She really needed to lay off the drinking; the room span around her. Giles continued.

"Buffy it's you."

She frowned, straining to concentrate as Giles explained.

"To complete the rights the Peroki needs to sacrifice a Slayer."

The back door shattered.

Buffy dropped the handset and spun round unsteadily. Grabbing a kitchen knife, she turned to face the Peroki.

She thought she could hear Giles in the distance calling her name. Her world swam as the demon closed in.

Spike opened his bottle of whiskey. It was cheap but it would have the desired effect.

'Best way to forget? Drink all you can get.'

A simple mantra that had helped him over the years, although it would take a distillery's worth to make him forget this evening's embarrassing episode.

He took a long slug and inwardly cringed as he remembered where it had all started to go wrong.

He'd seen the door start to open and was already running his opening salvo through his mind when she'd appeared; his moment had come.

She was caught off guard. Her eyes showed such sadness and vulnerability, it had thrown him completely. Buffy's face hardened almost instantly but he'd caught a glimpse of her in a state that he'd never seen before. Spike felt his anger fizzle and die; his righteous crucifixion was cancelled.

He'd suddenly felt like he wanted to hold her; he was consumed with the urge. Buffy was talking to him, he had to snap out of it.

Normally this is where you make a rather unwitty retort? Why; what had she said in the first place? Bloody concentrate! Too late, she was leaving. He had to think of something to say.

Say something! Anything. Just say the first thing that comes into your head, stupid.

You look nice. What on earth had possessed him? Well it was out there now; the damage was done.

Great, she was acting like she hadn't heard him. He had to say it again. His mother's old saying of 'in for a penny, in for a pound' ran through his mind as he painfully repeated his words.

Spike took another big slug, grimacing as the cut-rate liquor burned down his throat. It had all gone downhill from there.

Where the hell had, 'Say you want it.' Come from? Shuddering and closing his eyes he took another large swig. He really had to stop watching those daytime soaps; next thing he knew he'd be looking off moodily into the middle distance whilst professing his love for her.

Spike chuckled at the thought, his mirth drying as he considered this fake epiphany a little closer.

Bloody hell. _That,_ he promised himself, was never going to happen.

Never.

He quickly took another settling swig and glanced down at the bottle. Damn, he'd have to go out and get more booze. Spike grabbed his leather and shrugged it over his shoulders. Downing the last of the whiskey with a wince, he turned to leave, pocketing his car keys as he headed towards the door.

Wrenching it open Spike was surprised to be greeted by a stern looking Giles. The librarian shoved past and entered the crypt. Spike sighed; closing the door he turned to address his unwanted guest.

"Why Rupert, to what do I owe the pleasure of your delightfully taciturn company?"

Giles, ignoring Spikes sarcasm, cut straight to the point.

"Buffy is missing, taken I believe by the Peroki demon."

Spike made sure that his face remained impassive.

"Right; and you're here...why?"

Giles ground his teeth.

"Listen Spike, here is the last place I would ever normally willingly be, so take comfort in the fact that I am as disturbed by my presence here as you are."

The watcher paused, momentarily fixing Spike with a tired glare before adding, "We've been looking for Buffy for the last two hours; checked every dump and hideout that we could think off. This beast has a prophecy to fulfil and means to sacrifice her."

Again Giles paused; this time to gather himself removing his glasses and cleaning them. Spike stood stock still taking in the news about the Slayer, keeping a strict poker face.

"If the Peroki performs the ceremony and sacrifices Buffy it would be the end of the world as we know it. We would all be subject to utter damnation and certain death." The Watcher narrowed his eyes adding, "Even you William."

Spike considered this as he walked over to the librarian.

"So you want me to join in the hunt for the little lost Slayer."

Giles looked as though he was chewing glass as he begrudgingly replied. "Quite. With your knowledge of the..." he sought for an appropriate word, "seedier parts of town you're far better equipped for this search than we are." His voice took on a pleading tone. "You must know somewhere, anywhere, a demon could hide. The only saving grace to this whole predicament is that the ceremony takes some time to perform; we can save her if we act fast."

Spike considered this, briefly raising an eyebrow and rubbing his jaw before replying.

"Hmm, you know what? I think I'll pass, Rupey old chap." Spike walked to the door and opened it; gesturing for the Watcher to leave he added, "thanks awfully for the invite; I guess I'll be seeing you in hell instead."

Giles approached him; showing his trademark reserve and, stemming the anger building inside, he offered an incentive.

"I'll pay you. In blood if you wish."

Spike locked eyes with the watcher.

"Now let me think. How can I put this so a stiff old tweedy priss like you'll understand?" Spike grinned "Ah! Yes. Not for all the ruddy tea in china mate."

Giles raised a finger and poked it into Spikes chest.

"Remember when you turned up at my house newly chipped and fitted with a tracker? You begged me for help. Maybe I should have slammed the door in your face, better still let Buffy stake your pathetic emaciated carcass right there on my step. But no; I gave you a chance, she gave you a chance. You owe us something for that." He moved his finger so that it hovered in front of Spikes face. "If you don't help me find her tonight, I swear, hell will be a sweet release after I'm done with you."

Spike raised an eyebrow; so the librarian actually had a set of balls. Good for him. Again he gestured for Giles to leave.

"I think its best you get going mate, like you said time is running out and you're getting dangerously close to being a watcher with nothing left to watch."

Giles flinched then gathering himself and, hardening his expression, he delivered a final rejoinder before turning to leave.

"There may not be an ounce of decency in you Spike, that I can understand, but I never took you for such a damned fool. Without her, we're all lost."

The door slammed and Spike was alone once again. He waited for a moment or two, enough time to let the old boy get a reasonable distance away, then, his face set with determination, he bolted out into the night.

Of course Giles was right; Spike did know all the dives, hangouts and handy little places to lay low around town. Places those saps wouldn't have checked. What the vampire hadn't wanted was the Scoobies slowing him down. Their intentions may be good but their abilities minus the slayer to do the heavy lifting were decidedly lacking.

The Peroki was quite an opponent; he recalled Buffy had told him that they needed to slice it in half to kill it. That required a flair for violence, something that (unfortunately for the Slayer) her chums had no aptitude for. No, he needed to work fast unimpaired by the do gooders and their clumsy attempts at a rescue.

Spike made his way to the groundkeeper's shed for a quick weapons recce. Kicking down the door he scanned the shelves, his eyes alighting on something suitable for chopping.

He smiled. 'Perfect!'

Grabbing what he needed Spike turned and hurried towards his car.

There was still time; if she got herself sacrificed before he'd had a chance to explain away his moronic display earlier he'd never forgive her. The bronze had been a setback that was all; he still had leverage against her and he fully intended to use it. Spike reassured himself that she was still alive; she was infuriatingly hard to kill, he had first-hand knowledge of that.

The car roared into life and Spike floored it, tearing out he headed towards the 'seedy' end of town.

Buffy woke.

She felt coldness against her skin and realised slowly that she was lying on the floor. The room was dimly lit and ramshackle. She tried to get up but failed; she'd been shackled to the ground. Her head throbbed as she attempted to move and Buffy groaned as she remembered the blow that had knocked her out. Focus slowly returning she managed to gather that she was secured spread eagle over a crudely drawn emblem, a sort of peculiar pentagram. She was cold because her dress had been removed; thankfully her underwear was still in place though. This was not what she had envisaged when she'd put on her best matching set; this night was seriously starting to piss her off.

The queasiness rose again and she spotted the Peroki kneeling at a makeshift altar surrounded in candles. He bowed to the ground as though praying. Buffy could hear a strange noise coming from the demon; an unintelligible chant that he recited as he repeated the action.

He was distracted; this was her best chance to get loose. Using all of her strength, Buffy strained against the metal shackles.

It was no use; her strength waning Buffy closed her eyes and vehemently cursed reinforced steel.

It was OK, as long as Mr toothy over there was chanting there was still time to be rescued. Giles would know what to do, he always did. He was probably already on his way with Xander and Willow in tow, possibly even Anya too, hopefully armed to the hilt and equipped with a cunning plan.

Her train of thought halted suddenly as she noticed the ominous silence surrounding her; the chanting had stopped.


End file.
